Related

Light-headed and gasping, I am at 4,900 metres elevation high above the Andes Mountains in an unpressurized Twin Otter airplane.

While most visitors to Peru make a beeline to Machu Picchu, I'm heading for the Amazon jungle. Happily, we soon descend into richer oxygen, and look down on a land of endless verdant jungle, interlaced by meandering, braided rivers. Dr. Charlie Munn, an internationally renowned conservation biologist, points to a long, silt-clogged stretch of river. "That's a mining operation. Other threats are logging and ranching," he says. "The Amazon is stunningly beautiful, but it's under attack."

We bump down on a small grass airstrip hacked out of the dense jungle. The smells are ripe and rich. The foliage is lush and alive with strange caws and chirps. Bugs buzz. Sweat pours down my back as I watch our luggage brought by wheelbarrows to the terminal.

A path leads through the jungle to a river where we board a long narrow native boat. For the next 90 minutes we travel down the Rio Madre de Dios (River of Mother of God), a fast-flowing, wide tributary of the Amazon, ever deeper into the jungle, ever deeper into an alien, lush world in which I feel totally lost.

We arrive at the Manu Wildlife Center. "It offers the best wildlife experience in the Amazon," promises Charlie. I am led to one of 17 small but comfortable thatch-roofed cabins on stilts. A mosquito net covers the bed and there is a modern toilet and shower. Almost all the staff consists of friendly local natives.

Almost immediately we are off on a long hike, sweltering along a soggy trail with wild and bizarre growth pressing in on both sides. Sweat soaks every stitch of my clothing. Finally, we reach a three-metre-high wooden blind and climb under mosquito nets. A caiman is below us, lethal and sinister, occasionally snapping at hummingbird moths that flit by. Then a troop of howler monkeys ambles past high overhead, grunting among themselves. Now it is dark and under my net, I feel alone, a million miles from civilization. As the jungle crackles, moans, hisses and, occasionally, screams, my childhood fears of monsters lurking under the bed return. "Psst," Jose, our guide, interrupts. "A tapir is coming." He turns on a powerful lamp, which reveals a 230-kilogram piglike animal lumbering to an earthen bank where it licks at the clay.

As we hike back to the lodge, Jose's flashlight illuminates a tailless whip scorpion, a blunt-headed snake and a gladiator tree frog, whose venomous sweat, he explains, is used by natives to make poison for their blow-darts. In the darkness I cling desperately close to the group; if I get separated, I know I won't last an hour.

On returning I shower and then wander past heliconia and palm trees to the lodge, a large, attractive building with a thatched-roof and screened sides. I chat with some guests, birders, who are abuzz about the remarkable birdlife they've witnessed. Dozens of candles cast flickering shadows and the bartender wears a headlamp. For dinner we savour rolled, stuffed trout with local wild coriander and risotto and wheat germ. There is a warm camaraderie as we discuss the day's adventure and the charismatic Charlie tells us about jaguars, macaws and the jungle.

As I curl up under the mosquito net, lightning and thunder crash through the night. An immense torrential downpour descends and shakes the roof with primordial power. But exhausted, I sleep through it like a baby.

Jose taps on my door at 5 the next morning. The rain has stopped and we travel to a 50-metre-long wooden blind comfortably equipped with chairs and tables. Charlie explains, "Macaws come from 10 kilometres distance. At first they circle around the upper canopy while sentinels check that there are no hawks or predators. Then they slowly venture downward." I enjoy watching the socializing and playing, it's like a giant bird festival with blue-headed, mealy and yellow-crowned parrots, courier toucans and green ibis. But the stars are red-and-green macaws, like technicolour rainbows.

There is constant motion and noise. Finally they reach the lick and I get goose bumps as more than 20 beautiful macaws are arrayed on the bank, munching on clay.

"A few years ago, natives shot 45 macaws here," says Charlie. "If we hadn't established the Manu Wildlife Centre and associated national park, none of this would be protected."

As if on cue, two macaws tumble and somersault down from on high; then they unlock their talons and glide away.

"My passion is to establish high-quality ecotourism," continues Charlie, "so natives will have jobs, respect and they realize that the land has value if it is preserved."

That afternoon, we head into the dense rainforest. We pass a giant strangler fig whose climbing tentacles have completely enveloped a host tree. A shaky, spiralling metal staircase leads us 35 metres up to a platform nestled in the upper reaches of a giant kapok tree. A delicate orchid cactus grows on a branch. Sweat bees seek the moisture on our arms. A stick-insect melds with the branches. Far below, we see parakeets flitting through the thick foliage. It is spiritual. Charlie quietly says, "It's biologically the most diverse place on Earth, a speciation machine."

Hiking back, something small and hard bonks me on the head, and then more fall around us. "Look," says Jose, "a troop of monkeys is eating nuts in the canopy." We laugh as nuts come showering down like hail.

The next few days pass in a whirl. We cruise on an oxbow lake and see endangered giant otters playing, lethal caimans cruising, wattled jacanas (birds with stilt-like legs) prancing on lily pads and listen to the to-and-fro between Charlie and Jose as they identify one exotic bird after another, often by just a sound or glimpse.

One afternoon, a troop of monkeys scampers over my hut. At night we cruise on the river with the luminous eyes of caimans shining in the spotlight.

On our final afternoon, Charlie leads us to a cliff's edge.

"This is the world's first artificial macaw lick," he says proudly. At his signal, macaw calls are played over a loudspeaker and corn is sprinkled on the ground. Within a minute, two pairs of scarlet macaws, magnificent splashes of brilliant colour, land almost at our feet.

"I want tourists to seek out Manu," says Charlie, "for the experience and to get trophy photos like in Africa."

As we boat up the Madre de Dios, I'm sad to be leaving. I have been immersed in the magnificent richness of life and felt the profound forces of evolution around me.

Silently, I wish Charlie luck with his passion to save the jungle.

Comments

We encourage all readers to share their views on our articles and blog posts. We are committed to maintaining a lively but civil forum for discussion, so we ask you to avoid personal attacks, and please keep your comments relevant and respectful. If you encounter a comment that is abusive, click the "X" in the upper right corner of the comment box to report spam or abuse. We are using Facebook commenting. Visit our FAQ page for more information.

Almost Done!

Postmedia wants to improve your reading experience as well as share the best deals and promotions from our advertisers with you. The information below will be used to optimize the content and make ads across the network more relevant to you. You can always change the information you share with us by editing your profile.

By clicking "Create Account", I hearby grant permission to Postmedia to use my account information to create my account.

I also accept and agree to be bound by Postmedia's Terms and Conditions with respect to my use of the Site and I have read and understand Postmedia's Privacy Statement. I consent to the collection, use, maintenance, and disclosure of my information in accordance with the Postmedia's Privacy Policy.

Postmedia wants to improve your reading experience as well as share the best deals and promotions from our advertisers with you. The information below will be used to optimize the content and make ads across the network more relevant to you. You can always change the information you share with us by editing your profile.

By clicking "Create Account", I hearby grant permission to Postmedia to use my account information to create my account.

I also accept and agree to be bound by Postmedia's Terms and Conditions with respect to my use of the Site and I have read and understand Postmedia's Privacy Statement. I consent to the collection, use, maintenance, and disclosure of my information in accordance with the Postmedia's Privacy Policy.